


Untitled Early Sunsets ficlet

by orphan_account



Series: Late Dawns [3]
Category: Good Charlotte, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank collapsed on his bed with a grunt.  He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, and he felt completely disgusting, but he was just too tired to really give a shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Early Sunsets ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for red_ones_fly for my [time stamp meme](http://ghoststories-x.livejournal.com/51250.html)
> 
> Set before [Early Sunsets](http://archiveofourown.org/works/392241)

Frank collapsed on his bed with a grunt. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, and he felt completely disgusting, but he was just too tired to really give a shit.

He heard a grunt similar to his own, and didn’t need to open his eyes to know Mikey was collapsing on his own camp bed in the same manner, just a few feet away.

“When does it end?” Came a whine that sounded like one of the Maddens on the other end of the room.

“It doesn’t,” Frank muttered against his pillow. “We keep going.”

“I can’t do it.” That was Benji, Frank was sure. “Just kill me now.”

“With pleasure,” came Joel’s reply, followed by a slapping sound that was Joel slapping his brother’s back.

“Thanks.” Benji grunted. 

Frank moaned and pushed his face against the rough material of his pillow. He knew how Benji felt, how they all felt -- it was tough, the training, the exercise, the heat…everything. Only a few days before he’d been put in solitary for the day for punching Brian in the face for yelling at him during a routine dorm search. Things could get a bit antsy at times. 

Sometimes Frank forgot why they were they, why they were doing this, going through it all.

Then, he’d push his hand under his pillow and touch the old, worn material of the stuffed rabbit he hid from the world, and his stomach would curl and his chest would hurt, and he’d remember why he was doing it.

He was doing it for _him_.


End file.
